


rosy glimmers

by idontknowhowtoread (heatherpotts)



Category: Asagao Academy: Normal Boots Club
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Alternate Universe - Merpeople, Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Aquaphobia, M/M, hoes sad and emotionally repressed, it seems i have a type with my writing.. hmm, kind of, lets fucking get it, not really too graphic but. depiction of near drowning watch out, oops its polyblock now! ahaha, please buy my wares
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-24
Updated: 2019-08-25
Packaged: 2020-09-25 06:46:51
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,223
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20372434
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/heatherpotts/pseuds/idontknowhowtoread
Summary: Getting to see colors is something for people with soulmates, and Ian will graciously pass on that opportunity. It just isn't worth the trouble, right?





	1. sea green

**Author's Note:**

> you thought I gave up on asagao august? WRONG
> 
> (I mean I kinda did im sorry ive been busy but. here have soulmate au and merfolk au wrapped into one!!)
> 
> I got this idea from hawky and the soulmate mechanic thing from sparrow so shout out!! love yall. also stream colors by loona that's all I listened to while writing this

In all of his seventeen years of living, Ian had never seen color.

That wasn’t entirely true; but it might as well have been.

Even while seeing in black and white, the world Ian lived in was _colorful, _to say the least. Him not seeing in color was pretty much the most normal thing about his life; there were plenty of others like him, and almost _everyone _had been like him at some point. 

Because outside of his little human community, he lived in a world with ghosts and vampires, werewolves and animals that could only be described as  _ peculiar,  _ mermaids and fairies, witches and most boringly and dreadfully of all,  _ soulmates.  _

Assuming one has access to interaction with other humans-  _ Nope, not even limited to humans-  _ interaction with other  _ beings, everyone  _ finds their soulmate, eventually. Be it platonic or romantic, familial or just someone kind you meet out in public; everyone, eventually, gets that burst of color. Only when near your soulmate, though, and meant to compel you to find them, to stay with them.

Not to Ian, though. 

He was kind to the ghosts that haunted his hallways and staircases, and they were kind to him. He would offer them attention when they wailed, and alone time when they weren’t in the mood; they stopped harassing him when he was old enough to figure out how to be a little more respectful. Like, eight, or something. But still, their wails, be they mournful or friendly, never helped him see the color of the clothes that they died in. 

He grew a garden in the backyard, politely asked for the charms of fairies as payment for his spices, and tried his hardest to understand the advice the surprisingly patient witches gave him. He didn’t always totally get it, but they were nice to talk to anyway, and by some grace, his garden had always grown decently well. Still, none of that admittedly minimal interaction allowed him to see the blooms.

There was a cat that visited his garden often; she was seemingly the only one who wanted to capitalize on the catnip he grew. Or maybe she was the only one who could, seeing as the tall fences around his garden meant to keep out  _ everything  _ were hardly an obstacle for her. She didn’t belong to anyone, and Ian didn’t claim her- But he called her MJ, and she seemed to accept it.

Sometimes, he swore he could see swirls of color-  _ Purple, was it?-  _ around her paws, but he was pretty sure that didn’t count.

In all of his seventeen years of living, never had he  _ truly  _ seen color. Not at home, not around his family, not at school, not anywhere. 

That’s what he liked to tell himself, because there was, at least, a bit of comfort in black and white. Shades of grey, and the occasional tiny spark couldn’t hurt him.

But  _ oh, _ colors could.  _ Ocean blue,  _ deep and dark and fading into black the deeper he sank,  _ absolutely  _ could. Had before, would again  _ if he let it. _

Only once had he had that burst of color that all the romanticists obsessed over, and he chose to believe it had never happened.

He was a child; for all he knew, it could have been a dream. Brains are crazy and weird like that, he was ready to believe that it had simply made up the colors long kept from him, just for the occasion. But real or not, he was visiting the shore; the first and only time he had done so willingly.

The adrenaline rush he got as he approached the shore was one that remained unmatched; he still felt it around every decently sized body of water, from swimming pools to even puddles, but at first, it was joyful.

Now, it terrified him, twisted his stomach and strangled him, made him cry, made everything  _ worse.  _ How fitting, that under it all, he should drown. It was stupid; you nearly drown once, and then you just can’t  _ stop. _

But then, little Ian was having the time of his life. Slowly, but surely, his surroundings gained saturation. The sands, still white, became tinted with pink. The many beach goers around him each became another burst of color. He discovered his mother's dress, a strange wine red that didn’t seem suited for the occasion. He discovered the sky, a pale blue, the clouds sticking out so much more than Ian thought they would. And of course, the sea itself, a deep blue with lighter foam, shimmering in the sun.

His parents remained oblivious, even apathetic. He wasn’t even sure if they knew he had seen color; neither of them brought up the incident ever again. He was a child, anyway. In the end, it was truly meaningless. A burst of color was no more important than the familiar shades of grey.

But the sea glittered; a memory that now made him sick to his stomach. And he ran to it.

He was a child, unattended, stricken by the sight of blue. Could one be soulmates with the sea itself? He didn’t think so, but he wasn’t a soulmate-scientist, or whatever. It had to be one of the other beach-goers, lost in the crowd. He wasn’t even thinking about his soulmate in the moment, he was thinking about how the sea sparkled, and how pretty it was, and how he wanted to swim in it.

Maybe he didn’t get out enough, as a child. Maybe he still didn’t. Maybe he should have spent a little more time at the pool before he graduated to swimming in the ocean. Maybe his parents should have actually done their job and not let him run off, but he certainly wasn’t complaining at the time. 

He wanted those sparkling waves, and he got them. He wasn’t really aware of how far out he had gone, probably not even all that far given his skill and the actual size of his body, but before long, the waves overtook him.

He surfaced once, blinded, flailing and coughing up saltwater. His vision blurred, eyes burning, and all he saw was blue. Another wave submerged him again, and held him down.

He remembered the colors well. Blue, surrounding him, growing darker with depth and the longer Ian was held down. He opened his eyes, and they burned like hell, all for another glimpse of blue, rimmed with a warlike red. Underwater, the waves didn’t sparkle like he thought it would. The weight of the water, the taste of it on his tongue and the feel of it down his throat, the pounding in his head and the aching of his lungs; it was all red. 

Blue, red, then all black. And nothing.

He woke up with a few lingering sparks of saturation still in view, but greyscale ended up taking over once more. The pain was still red, in the saltwater he coughed up and in the stinging at the backs of his eyes, but he was already forgetting what red looked like. It didn’t really matter anyway; pain stayed the same. 

He and his parents went home after that, speaking of the incident vaguely only once, and then never again. Left to his own devices, like the child he was, he grew to fear the shimmering of sunlight on the water. In puddles, in rivers, in the fluorescent lights over swimming pools and even in the visions he saw after being on the road for too long; they were all red, and painful, and suffocating. 

The prospect of color was an empty promise, like the glittering of the sea. It’s pretty at first, then it  _ catches  _ you, and you can’t escape. Water meant drowning, color meant a soulmate, and he trusted his supposed soulmate, trusted  _ himself,  _ no more than he trusted the sea. Color meant pain; red meant pain, blue meant deception. He’d rather die in black and white than fall victim to endless blue once more. 

That’s what he liked to tell himself; it made living in greyscale much easier. It let him ignore the constant pounding in his head, what his heart truly wanted, the selfish desires that haunted him more than any ghost; his feelings were red, and they were loud.

There were thousands of others like him, living in greyscale, and that wasn’t a bad thing. It was just as good as seeing in color, furthermore, it was  _ safer.  _ And he didn’t see any of them complaining. He could live in black and white, and he could be happy. Now, if never before, he had all the color he needed.

That’s what he told himself. But the pounding never truly ceased; there was always a bit of saltwater left in his chest, and there was always a little reckless bravery left in his heart. He was a child then, and still a child now, unsupervised. He could go to the fairies and ask for luck, he could go to the witches and ask for advice, but when it came to color, to fear and love and soulmates themselves, he was left to his own devices. 

And at some point, slowly, of course, but surely, he managed to convince himself to go back. Kicking and screaming, of course, but somehow, he would have to manage. Maybe this was an act of punishment, a way setting himself straight; but he doubted he would end up fearing the water any less. Fucking  _ puddles  _ made his heart race and the little  _ glimmers  _ always threatened to choke the life out of him, and he believed them. He wouldn’t be taking many chances, but he just… wanted to go back, simple as that.

It sounded so much simpler when he phrased it like that; but no, it really wasn’t. He was confronting a vicious phobia he had held since he was a child, unattended and utterly  _ alone. _ He would stand before the water, and it would glitter and entice him, whisper as the waves crashed onto the shore,  _ remind him.  _

And, assuming the best case scenario, he would turn around and run home. Or maybe he’d spare a moment to break down, sinking into the sand and sobbing, his tears returning to the ocean where they belonged. Maybe he’d buck up eventually and head home, or maybe he’d simply wither on the shore, let the sun dry him out and let the tide rise and wash over him. Maybe he’d give in completely, chase those glimmers once more. Maybe he had a better chance now that he was taller, but-

The thought alone made him shiver. He wouldn’t give in, he  _ couldn’t.  _ He would come home, he promised himself that. He had his garden, and MJ. The fairies would wonder why their charms were being wasted. The ghosts would have no one to wail at, at least for a while. The witches would wonder whatever happened to that clueless boy that always came around for advice he could barely process. His life had purpose in black and white, and he would come home after this little experiment in self-harm was over. He promised himself that.

… Gods, he didn’t even know what he would do if he started seeing in color again. He chose not to think about it, really.

Before he left, MJ seemed to smile at him. Knowing her, she probably knew. She believed in him.

And seeing the sparks of purple around her paws again, Ian wondered if maybe, seeing in color might not be so bad.

He didn’t believe that voice for a second; it was soaked in red. But he took note of it regardless, and eventually set off.

The trip there was largely uneventful. He drove through a vampire party, one particularly persistent fairy  _ really  _ wanted his soul, and he ended up giving half of his sandwich to an honestly pitiful golden retriever-esque werewolf. All of it remained in black and white; so far, so good.

He knew as soon as he was close that things were about to go horribly wrong. He’d be better off turning around, hell, even crashing the car at this point. But he was a child, of course; stupid, naive, and stubborn. 

And as the coast came into view, slowly, but surely, colors came into view.

_ Gods, fucking damn it. _

But no, he couldn’t stop. The beach was quiet at this time of day; only a couple people off to the sides, out of his way. Nothing to stop him from obsessing over every seashell and grain of sand, pink and white now painted orange in the evening light. The sky was pink, fading into purple, the sun gathering the vibrant colors around it as it set.

It felt brutally ironic that he was watching the sun sink, soon to drown. How somehow, the colors made it beautiful. Maybe it was taunting Ian, or making another empty promise; the sun would rise again the next day, surfacing and breathing in deeply, to live another day in vibrant color. Maybe the sun loved the sea. Maybe that promise wasn’t so empty.

Maybe he was going fucking crazy, looking for meaning in the most mundane, normal things. The salty air had to be getting him high, or something. Maybe he was having a stroke, or something, although all he could smell was the salt and his burning lungs from all those years ago. Maybe the oxygen just wasn’t getting to his brain for whatever reason. Maybe the ghosts had followed him out here, somehow. It  _ had _ to be something other than the pounding in his head he had tolerated ever since that day, anything other than the reckless emotion that wrote its wishes on his heart in fiery red ink. Anything, anything other than that.

He stood before the water, mere inches away from where the waves would surge to, forcing himself to keep his eyes open and drinking in the  _ color.  _ Largely purple, now, glimmering pink and yellow, and even more than Ian remembered it to, it  _ sparkled.  _

He wondered if it would still look blue from underneath. If his heart would settle down a bit if he let the water take him, if only for a moment. If his stomach would unknot itself, if the tears stinging at his eyes would drain right back into the sea and he’d be  _ fine,  _ if he could just float and leave his fear at the bottom. 

He certainly wasn’t planning on swimming; he hadn’t packed for it, hadn’t  _ dreamed _ of it. This was a pointless mental exercise, but he supposed that was all this was. He wasn’t sure if he even still had the muscle memory of swimming, as it wasn’t a memory he returned to all that often. But maybe, more likely at the pool or even just standing out in the rain, if he could let himself be submerged without panicking and flailing and ending up choking on the water, maybe there would be answers, there. Resolution, comfort.

He doubted it. Both that it would solve any of his problems, and that he would even be able to without getting himself hurt and doubling down on that water equals death thing. But maybe, one day.

He sighed, noticing just how much he was shaking, and let himself kneel in the sand. He was closer to the water now, maybe that wasn’t the best idea, but he just had to let himself rest a bit. He was shaking in every limb, lungs aching for fresher air and to be free of the suffocating memory, for fear that water would invade them again, that whatever lifeguard would nearly break his ribs bringing him back to life. His hands were shaking, his knees likely would have given out if he wasn’t already kneeling, and it seemed like a miracle that he hadn’t broken into tears yet.

He closed his eyes, letting the sound of the waves wash over him. The sound of the seagulls distantly squawking, the other beach-goers enjoying themselves, the pounding in his head that just  _ wouldn’t  _ go away.

“Uh, hey… You alright?”

When Ian opened them, there was somebody there.

More than that,  _ oh gods,  _ a  _ literal mermaid. _ Right there, in his scales before Ian, lying in the shallow water like it was nothing, flaunting a pastel pink tail for everyone to see. His teeth were a bit worryingly sharp, but his smile seemed genuinely kind, with soaked, slicked back dark hair and strikingly blue eyes, not nearly as scary as they should have been. 

And his voice,  _ gods, his voice.  _ He would have feared that this man was a seductive siren out for his soul, eager to grab him by the ankles and drag him to his death, if not for the fact that the colors bloomed every so slightly more with him in his view. Something deeper than Ian could truly understand, he just  _ knew. _

“... Yeah,” Ian muttered, letting out a shaky exhale. Meeting the mermaid’s gaze, somehow a smile had forced itself onto Ian’s face. “... It’s you, isn’t it?”

The mermaid chuckled, looking away, as if embarrassed.

“I mean, I sure hope it’s me.”

By the  _ fucking Gods,  _ did they really have to give him a soulmate that not only lived in the environment Ian most feared, but also just so happened to be the prettiest being Ian had ever seen? His voice was low, maybe aiming for seduction but just ending up with giddy excitement and nervousness, and it was  _ adorable.  _ Everything about the mermaid was adorable, from the rosy color of his cheeks to the rosy glimmer of his scales; which should have set off alarm bells in Ian’s mind, but  _ damn it,  _ he was just  _ too pretty.  _

“I… I hope so too.”

_ Wow. Smooth start, Ian. _

At least the mermaid thought he was funny, or something.

“Uh- Yeah, but, uh… I believe we’ve met…? I was just a guppy, but…” The mermaid trailed off, mindful to be delicate with the incident Ian knew he was referring to, which was already a huge plus.

“Yeah, yeah, we have. Well, I didn’t know it was you, but… Yeah. Thanks for that.”

“Of course,” The mermaid replied, and Ian felt leagues safer at this point. At the very least, for once, he wasn’t alone. “My name is Luke. You?”

“Oh, uh- Ian. My name’s Ian,” Ian stammered, offering a wide smile in return.

“It’s… nice to finally meet you, Ian,” Luke said, trailing off a bit as his gaze moved behind Ian, examining the landscape. The  _ colors, _ Ian knew. All of a sudden, he felt incredibly guilty for putting this off for so long. “... So, what do you think about seeing in color?”

Ian couldn’t help but laugh.

“Not bad.”


	2. royal purple

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i lied theres more.. we polyblock now

Once he started seeing in color, he just couldn’t stop, could he?

That night he left the beach, his heart still racing from being around the water but still with the intent of coming back; as expected, his vision faded back into black and white. That would be a bit worrying if it didn’t; he hadn’t accounted for a mermaid stowaway.

Sometime in the morning, he returned home. He smiled and waved hello to the ghosts, brushing off their complaints about his absence and the painfully obvious fact that they _ knew, _ something had changed.

Naturally, the first thing he did after checking that the house and his garden were still intact was take a nap. He didn’t really remember what was actually happening in his dream, nothing in particular really stuck out or was worth contemplation, but the most interesting fact just so happened to be that the entire scene was all _ drenched _in pink.

He hadn’t known the color for very long, but he rather liked it. After all of this time fearing and dreading what he could describe as _ red, _ pink was a comforting color. There was only so much he could say, assigning meanings to the colors he had only known for a few minutes, at the most, but pink was a color that seemed to reassure him. A color that told him that things were going to be _ okay, _ and that his fears, his emotions, whatever else he was feeling, _ really _wasn’t so bad. Pink was the color of the sands at the shore, the sky in the evening as the sun began to sink, and Luke’s scales, glittering and promising better things to come.

He couldn’t say for certain if he had finally made his peace with red; the very concept of blue still scared him, and he could still safely say that he was more comfortable seeing in black and white. But pink, at least, he could manage.

He woke up to the dwindling evening light filtering in through the window; once again, a lighter grey casting onto the dark floorboards, the shadows perfectly black. MJ sat on his windowsill.

She had never done that before, but Ian couldn’t say he was all that surprised. She went wherever she pleased, as always.

He mumbled out a greeting, she purred in acknowledgment, and eventually hopped down from the windowsill, padding towards the door. 

He was too tired to realize it at first, but she wanted him to follow her. Only when she started chirping, which was more adorable than she probably meant for it to be, did Ian get the hint. 

She led him out of the house, down the street, towards the woods that lined the outskirts of the town and deeper in. He was understandably a bit nervous, but the fact that he was trusting a _ cat _ to guide him through all this wasn’t even the weirdest part about this. About his _ life, _in general. At least death via MJ certainly wasn’t the worst way to go. Maybe those saturated sparks at her paws really meant something, after all.

… Maybe he was seeing things, but he could have sworn that as they went deeper into the woods, the color around her paws grew brighter, more vivid.

Slowly, surely, _ somehow, _everything did.

MJ had led him to a witch, living in a rustic, almost overgrown cottage, overwhelmed with green.

_ Fuck, _ he could see the _ green. Fuck, fuck, fuck. _

MJ purred, brushing up against his legs, reassuring him. He supposed he didn’t have a choice, at this point.

The cottage was small, but seemed like something Ian should have known about, should have wandered upon after all his years of taking walks, looking for seeds or flowers, animals or even just to clear his head. Maybe that was a witch thing, somehow hiding from those who are unwelcome. If this witch was _ so _reclusive, maybe that was a good thing; they already had something in common.

MJ led him without hesitation into the cottage, through hallways lined with various plants and bottles of liquids that Ian couldn’t even try to understand, said hallways seeming much too winding for the tiny cottage it was.

But eventually, the hallway finally opened up into a room, filled with equipment for mainly unknown _ but probably potion related _ purposes, and even more plants, some of the biggest and _ strangest _Ian had ever seen.

And, of course, the witch.

And because the universe just hated him, or something, just like Luke; the witch was just _ breathtakingly _ pretty. His outfit wasn’t much more than that of a stereotypical gardener’s, but little trinkets filled his pockets and were worn like jewelry, and _ already, _ there was so much Ian wanted to know. His eyes were a bright hazel, his smile wide and his cheekbones peculiarly sharp, his hair swooping upwards with so much stability that it _ had _to be magic. 

“Um… Hey,” The witch said, a mix of confusion and pure elation written on his face. He called to MJ, making kissy noises as she padded over towards him and let herself be scooped up. “Hey, what did ‘ya catch for me?”

He was talking to the cat. Right. That was rather normal, relatively.

MJ chirped happily, surprisingly expressive. 

“Well, yeah, I can _ see _that.”

Oh, he was _ actually talking _ to the cat? _ You know what, sure. _

MJ meowed some more, sending the witch into some sort of deep contemplation.

“Wh… Really? How come you’re only bringing him to me now?”

Another couple expressive meows, seeming almost smug. The witch listened with wide eyes, occasionally looking back at Ian, eventually settling on some sort of acceptance.

The witch sighed, letting MJ wriggle out of his arms as he approached Ian.

“Well, uh… Hey. I’m Jeff, and… guess you’re my soulmate.”

Jeff put his hand out for Ian to shake, slightly dirt stained, his nails painted with an array of colors and glitters that Ian wouldn’t be surprised if Jeff had put them on without seeing what they really were. Ian took his hand.

“Ian. Guess you’re mine.”

All of the colors were something Ian was going to have to learn to deal with.

Because no, the universe just couldn’t let him rest. Not after the exhaustion of finally finding his first, and as of then, _ only _ soulmate, and dealing with the baggage of Luke’s watery existence itself. Not after even a _ second _ soulmate, a witch that was so hypnotic yet so overwhelming in all of his studies, all of his tools and trinkets and the things he dedicated his life to, that were all just so _ inspiring. _

No, the colors just wouldn’t stop coming. 

He was only given a couple _ days _ at the _ most _ to rest, beginning to try and figure out how he was going to be dividing up his time. He still had a garden to maintain, ghosts to entertain, and that was hard to balance with trying to find the time to visit Jeff out in the woods and driving out to visit Luke on the coast. 

No, even that just wasn’t enough.

On one of the days Ian actually had time to visit Jeff, while examining each and every plant in Jeff’s home as he explained them all to Ian, MJ had dragged in someone else.

A somewhat scared looking, scruffy boy with torn up clothes and dirt stains like Jeff’s all over his skin. Jeff clocked it before Ian did; the boy was a werewolf.

And MJ clocked it way before either of them did; this boy, who called himself Caddy and had just so happened to stumble into these woods, was _ another _ soulmate. A soulmate for _ both _of them, and they checked. Both Jeff and Ian tried it, one would walk off with MJ while the other stayed with Caddy, and the one who stayed with the werewolf never lost their color vision. 

Tried and true, _ a-fucking-gain. _Still, Ian would have hated it more if Caddy wasn’t so pretty, if he wasn’t so cute and easy to mess with, so childishly vicious and all bark, no bite. 

Quite literally. Upon the full moon, he turned into an _ actual puppy. _ Like, one that Ian could hold in one hand, fluffy and pure white and the cutest thing Ian had ever seen. It was _ insane, _ and so quickly, he found himself falling for Caddy.

There were another couple days of rest, if you could call it that. They drove up to visit Luke at the shore, and as the universe would have it, Luke was a soulmate for both of them as well. 

The water still_ kind of scared the shit out of _ Ian, but it was a lot easier when he wasn’t alone. Somehow, Caddy had never visited the beach before, and that tiny puppy side of him came back out as he played in the water with Luke, leaving Ian and Jeff to watch from on land.

Ian had gotten a bit worried that Caddy was going to drown himself, but Jeff reassured him with a bright smile and a gentle squeeze to his hand. Caddy was _ stupid, sure, _ but Luke was _ right there, _and Jeff would keep an eye on them.

Jeff was there for him; something Ian hadn’t been able to say about _ anyone _ before, in all his seventeen years of living. But now, he had Jeff, and Luke, and even Caddy. Ian had never been all that in touch with his emotions, but now that he was at least somewhat aware of them, they were slamming into his thoughts and making his heart race _ every day of his fucking life; _ and he didn’t know for sure if it was too soon to say that he loved them, but there was at least a bit of comfort in saying it.

Love was a concept just as foreign as color; and he could learn. 

The universe was _ almost done, _just not quite. 

On their drive home, they managed to encounter a fairy, with grand wings and an overall familiar pink-ish hue; adorned in expensive fabric and glittering jewelry that seeing in black and white would have never done justice. And, his… sidekick? His pet? His human, that he liked. His indebted… whatever. He was with a human, too, wrapped in purple, and who seemed to actually want to be there.

Ian had no idea how Caddy even realized, seeing as how everyone involved was already seeing in color, but maybe his _ dog senses _ helped him see some additional bloom in saturation, or whatever. 

The fairy, who called himself Jimmy, queen of... something, or other, and owner of many titles, _ really _wanted them to browse his wares, as did his human companion, named Wallid. 

Instead, Caddy managed to convince them to instead pair off and walk into the night to see if any of them would lose their color vision, and turn out to be _ not _soulmates.

They tried it twice. Jimmy with Ian, Wallid with Jeff, then Jimmy with Caddy and Wallid with Ian. That seemed like enough data to determine that _ yep, _ they were _ all _up a couple more soulmates.

Ian’s car was _ not _ big enough for this.

But finally, the universe eased up a bit, and somehow, they managed. 

Ian would keep tending to his garden, keep paying attention to the ghosts; Caddy and Wallid would often stop in, Jimmy and Jeff as well, whenever they could. They’d visit Jeff’s cottage whenever they found the time, hang out with Jimmy and Wallid whenever they weren’t busy selling their wares, and although not always _ all together _ given the size of Ian’s car, they’d visit Luke at the shore.

Ian never became all that much of a fan of swimming, but he at least got to the point where he could look at the water and not feel like he was going to die. Jimmy didn’t like it either; he said it was bad for his wings, so at least he wasn’t alone in that. They could just sit in the sand as Caddy and Wallid yelled at each other for splashing too much; Jimmy would beg to braid Ian’s hair, Jeff would somehow convince Ian to let him do his nails, and things would simply be… good. So much better than fine, something that Ian had never thought he’d achieve so soon, but _ gods, _was it incredible.

He didn’t know what he had done for the universe for him to suddenly be shown such kindness, such mercy, such love; but he knew that he’d be just fine if he never saw in greyscale ever again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> polyblock rights


End file.
